


The Meeting

by katling



Series: Tony Stark Bingo [34]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Kind of Bucky neutral, Morgan doesn't give a damn, Morgan is all grown up, Not Sam Wilson Friendly, Not Wanda Friendly, Not particularly Wakanda friendly, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Team Iron Man, Though Morgan does get snarky about him, dressed for success, many years post endgame, moderated for my peace of mind, not team Cap friendly, or iron family perhaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: The Avengers, what's left of them anyway, ask for a meeting. Morgan obliges. She's been waiting for this for some time.Written for the Tony Stark Bingo - Card 3054, Square S2: Anticipation
Series: Tony Stark Bingo [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1270763
Comments: 51
Kudos: 1625
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This took some interesting zigs and zags on me.
> 
> The path I took with this is that Pepper and Rhodey and Happy never really told Morgan the details of what happened with Tony and the Avengers. They didn't see any reason to, since there was basically no contact nor was there ever any intention for there to be. So, Morgan got all her information from FRIDAY, who basically just gave Morgan access to all the video and audio recording she had, both from her time with Tony and from before. Morgan then came to her own conclusions from that. The only people Morgan discussed this with were Peter and Harley, so she's got a very jaundiced view of the Avengers. I mean, imagine seeing Thor holding your father by the throat and no one doing anything about it. Imagine how you'd react to that.

Morgan Stark strode confidently along the corridor towards one of the Compound’s conference rooms, her heels making a very satisfactory clicking noise against the floor. Her mother had taught her the strength and value in dressing for an occasion. So, even if she much preferred her father’s more casual style of jeans and band shirts, she was right now dressed in a crisp business suit with a pencil skirt so narrow and heels so high that many would wonder how she could walk. Her hair was in an up-do that looked casual but really wasn’t and she had used delicate touches of make-up that would have made the beautician who had taught her cry with pride and delight. 

Because her mother had taught her there was a time and a place for everything and this was not R&D and she wasn’t here to enjoy herself. Not that she _wasn’t_ going to enjoy herself – in fact, she had faced this meeting with a great deal of anticipation – but ultimately, this was business, not pleasure. 

Her mother had handed over the reins to Stark Industries to her on her twenty-first birthday. It had been an occasion of a great deal of pomp and circumstance, all covering some very real and serious consequences. Between them, Morgan, Peter Parker and Harley Keener owned the controlling share of SI – and then some… really, the Board was more of a formality than a necessity but they kept the Board around just to play nicely – and they were all in agreement about the general structure of the company’s future. Morgan was the only one who sat on the Board for now but she kept in close contact with Harley and Peter, her surrogate big brothers, and they moved as one, much to the chagrin of the older Board members who had sought to try some divide and conquer moves. 

Today, though, was one of the few issues where she and the Board were in unanimous agreement. After her father’s death, SI had continued to provide funding for the Avengers, albeit at a slowly decreasing level. After Morgan had taken over, she’d continued that funding for a few years until she had iron control of the company and then she’d cut the remains of the funding off… after a due and proper warning, of course. Sent by email and never responded to. She’d then sat back and waited to see how long it took before the Avengers noticed. It had taken longer than she’d expected, but then, the Avengers weren’t really people’s first port of call when it came to enhanced aid these days. (Or second port of call… or third… or fourth… you get the picture) They always left too much in the way of death, injuries and collateral damage behind for people to want them involved unless there was literally no other choice.

So it had ultimately taken nearly four years for them to notice that their funds were dwindling and nothing was coming from SI to top them up again. Now that they _had_ noticed, they’d demanded - not asked, _demanded_ , which was the first strike against them - a meeting with Morgan. Since this had been part of her plan, she’d obliged instead of sending a more appropriate response back. Her only slap down of their impertinent demand of the CEO of a multi-trillion dollar, multi-national company had been to schedule this meeting at _her_ convenience, not theirs.

As such, it was just before eight o’clock in the morning when she strode into the conference room, looking every inch the confident, successful young CEO that she was. Her dark red suit was immaculate, and her heels were the killer ones that she privately despised but wore anyway because they intimidated the hell out of people. She didn’t quite understand why but if it worked, it worked.

“Good morning,” she said crisply as she moved to the chair at the head of the table. 

The Avengers were sprawled around the table in various poses, ranging from alert to ‘I just got up’. Morgan wasn’t impressed with what she saw.

Sam Wilson was, at least, trying to put on a show of being alert and ready for the meeting. Who know, perhaps he even was. Morgan had never been impressed by him. Her mother hadn’t told her a lot about the Avengers. She seemed to have a strange aversion to doing so, preferring to just change the subject and act like they didn’t even exist. Morgan had turned to FRIDAY for that information and while FRIDAY had been reticent when she was underage, the moment she’d turned eighteen, the AI had not hesitated to give her access to everything she had, including video recordings. Morgan knew _all_ about how the Avengers had treated her father and she was petty enough to say that today had a great deal to do with that.

Admittedly, Sam Wilson hadn’t been the most egregious perpetrator when it came to her father but he had been Steve Rogers’ yes-man. Honestly, how Wilson expected her to respect him when he’d trailed along behind Rogers like an unthinking puppy was beyond her. Her Uncle Rhodey was a far better example of how a friend should be – brothers in arms but always willing to question and say no. 

Wilson had taken up the mantle of Captain America in... odd circumstances. She’d never been able to find the truth of it all, only that it had involved an older version of Rogers, who had passed away when she was sixteen. That death had barely registered on her radar. But it was Wilson with the shield now and he seemed to have picked up where Rogers left off when it came to the collateral damage game. The only thing she could say in his favour what that he wasn’t quite as self-centred and arrogant as Rogers. He did, however, lack Rogers’ serum and the years were definitely taking their toll. She expected he’d hang up the shield or hand it on in the next few years.

Barnes, who was sprawled lazily in a chair but watching her like a hawk, was something of an enigma. She knew he’d murdered her grandparents and beaten her father halfway into the ground… and had apologised for neither of those things. He claimed to want to make amends for his past actions, yet never defined what those past actions were. As far as she knew (and, thanks to FRIDAY, who was now unfettered, she knew a lot), he’d never spoken to any sort of authority about the Winter Soldier’s actions, despite numerous requests from around the world. Morgan suspected he _didn’t_ actually remember what he’d done, that the Wakandan treatment had selectively lobotomised him, in a manner of speaking. Which was unethical as all hell really. 

She’d tried to get information about that treatment but Wakanda didn’t really like her too much. She’d been fairly neutral regarding them until she’d found out that King T’Challa had been in Siberia and had failed to assist her father, instead aiding the two men who had harmed him. Then it had been on for young and old. Her first sally at them had been to refine the element her father had created and make it more accessible. 

Starkanium was now easily manufacturable and infinitely useful. It also had essentially the same properties as vibranium and over the years, Harley, Peter and Morgan had used it to revolutionise SI’s products and expand out into new fields. And if those fields were ones where Wakanda had been flourishing and SI’s products were cheaper, just as good and came with less in the way of caveats, well, that was just a coincidence. She suspected Shuri had an idea of what they were doing as the woman always seemed a combination of offended, amused and challenged. She made a mental note to reach out to Shuri on the down-low to see if she’d be willing to give her more information about Barnes’ treatment.

But Barnes... well, she kept a respectable distance from Barnes. She was halfway convinced that the man was a ticking time bomb from whatever the Wakandan scientists had done to his brain and she didn’t want to be there when he finally exploded. Historically, that sort of thing did not go well for Starks so it would probably be wise to make sure he didn’t have a chance to attack a third generation.

Barton was something of a non-event these days. His wife had kicked him out about six years after Thanos’ death, after his five-year serial killer spree had come to light, and he’d come trailing back to the Avengers due a lack of other options. Barton had somehow managed to avoid prison time for his spree. Her more cynical side said it was due to the fact that since Barton had kept his killing to non-Americans – and non-white non-Americans at that – the government didn’t much care. That lack of official action had led to Barton being banned from entering enough countries that he was effectively confined to events in the US. He was also getting on in years, like Wilson. His aim was still good, but his recovery ability was sorely lacking. He really ought to retire but given his ex-wife and kids still wanted nothing to do with him, he had nowhere to go.

She kept her expression studiously neutral as her gaze ran over Maximoff and Vision. Maximoff had always been cagey about how Vision had returned to the land of living and Morgan strongly suspected that she’d broken a large number of rules. Dr Strange’s reaction tended to confirm that and Morgan had always wondered why he’d never taken action. Probably some sort of arcane magical thing that made no sense. Or he was biding his time for some equally arcane reason. Either way, Maximoff and Vision were _disturbingly_ co-dependent, which really just reinforced the idea that whatever Maximoff had done was _bad_. The fact that she’d effectively stopped aging at the same time she’d returned with Vision was just the icing on that particular shit sandwich. In addition, Maximoff was even more erratic and volatile these days and Morgan was fairly well convinced that her sanity was hanging by a thin thread. Certain confidential document she’d ‘accidentally’ seen had told her that her opinion was shared by many others in power and was one of the main reasons why the Avengers, what was left of them anyway since they hadn’t recruited a single new member since Thanos’ death, were the team of last resort these days.

She sat down primly and placed her tablet on the table in front of her and her briefcase on the floor beside her chair. She then clasped her hands on the table and waited with an expectant look on her face.

“Um,” Wilson finally said when the silence stretched out into really awkward territory. 

“Yes?” Morgan replied, her tone still all professional aloofness. “You asked for this meeting, Mr Wilson. I assumed you had a purpose for it.”

The Avengers all shifted in their seats and Wilson jerked a little before straightening up completely. They all looked like this was already not going how they’d expected. Morgan was inwardly amused. Had they expected her to be a fangirl? After what they’d done to her father? She’d seen the footage after all, though she would admit that they probably didn’t know that. 

“Uh, right,” Wilson said before visibly pulling himself together. “It’s about the funding we receive from Stark Industries.”

Morgan waited for a moment. “Yes?”

Wilson blinked and looked at the others briefly. “It’s stopped.”

“Yes,” Morgan said. “Something you were all informed was happening in the email that was sent to you four weeks before the funding ended. Furthermore, you were informed in that email that if you wished to be considered for continued funding, you needed to make a formal submission by the cut-off date. A submission was never received and thus your funding ceased.”

“But we’ve always been funded by SI,” Wilson protested.

“My father was a very generous man,” Morgan said with a small nod. “The funding was retained after his death in honour of that but with the increase in registered and approved Enhanced, both individuals and groups, the Board agreed that SI continuing to fund only one group – and not a very active group at that – sends the wrong message. As such, we created the Tony Stark Foundation, which offers funding to any Enhanced individual or group on approval of their submission.”

“You can’t do that!” Maximoff protested as Vision patted her shoulder.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Which part? Because I can assure you that as the CEO and majority shareholder of Stark Industries, I very much can do that. What’s more, it is done.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure why you’re complaining. With the lack of incidents you’ve been called to in recent years, you should have very little difficulty in working within the boundaries of the funding you receive from the Accords Council and the government.”

“We deserve that money,” Maximoff pouted.

Morgan gave her a long, long look. She was tempted to say something about that but decided to let it go. There was little point in arguing with someone so delusional. Instead, she turned to Wilson.

“You are more than welcome to make a submission to the Tony Stark Foundation for additional funding. They assess each submission fairly and objectively and approvals are made every six months. If your submission is knocked back, they will provide you with a written statement of reasons as to why.”

Wilson looked nonplussed. “And our gear?”

Morgan chuckled. “Your gear hasn’t been made by SI since long before Thanos’ actions. My father made and maintained them prior to the civil war. After that, you found yourselves a new sugar daddy.” Wilson looked uncomfortable at that phrasing, but Morgan didn’t much care. “After Thanos’ Snap was reversed and my father defeated him, the Accords Council deals with all of that. I’m not certain who they contracted with to handle your equipment.”

“But you…” Wilson began.

“I maintain my own suit, yes, as well as Peter’s Iron Spider suit,” Morgan said. She’d taken over the Rescue armour from her mother when she’d turned eighteen. Her mother hadn’t been entirely happy about that but had eventually sighed, shaken her head and smiled, stating that Morgan was very much her father’s daughter. Morgan always said she was and always would be the daughter of both Tony and Pepper. She liked to think she’d absorbed the best of both of them. “Harley maintains his own suit and he and I assist Uncle Rhodey with War Machine.”

Harley had stepped into Iron Man’s very big shoes when he’d turned eighteen and after a few small missteps at the beginning, had taken to it with aplomb. He was even more acerbic and sarcastic than her father had ever been, and she knew that the Avengers had always been uncomfortable to be called out to incidents he was involved in. She might be diplomatic in public about the Avengers, Harley, however, felt no such need.

Her Uncle Rhodey wasn’t really an active participant in any sort of superheroing these days but that was mostly because he wasn’t on Earth for long enough to do so. Morgan remembered watching him and her Aunt Nebula dance around each other for _years_ after her father died. She’d once asked her mother why they were being so stupid and didn’t just kiss and had watched her mother collapse into giggles, a rare occurrence after her father’s death so she’d felt rather proud of herself. They’d gotten their act together eventually though and Morgan was a little envious of them, gallivanting around the galaxy and having adventures.

“But the Defenders…” Wilson tried again.

“The Defenders have come to a contractual arrangement with me as a group,” she replied. “They provide me with certain things and in return I provide them with their gear. Within reason.”

“What things?” Barton asked accusingly.

“None of your business,” she returned tartly. “Literally. The contract says so.”

“Morgan,” Wilson began in a tone that was clearly trying to be reasonable but fell more to the side of condescending to Morgan’s ears. Maybe he’d picked up more from Rogers than she’d thought.

“Ms Stark,” she said firmly.

“What?”

“We’re not family and we’re certainly not friends,” she replied, crisp and professional. “We have no relationship outside the professional and very little of that, so… Ms Stark seems most appropriate, yes?”

“Uh… yes?” Wilson said slowly. He frowned and shook his head. “Look, we’re not trying to be obnoxious here.” Morgan refrained from snorting, but she did very slowly raise an eyebrow at him. Wilson twitched but ploughed onwards. “We just want to know why you’ve stopped the funding that Tony put in place.”

“Because I chose to,” she said calmly. “The company is mine. Or mine, Peter’s and Harley’s but we were all in agreement with this and the Board was as well. SI no longer wants to fund you so we’re not going to.”

“You can’t just do that!” Wilson blustered.

“Yes, I can,” Morgan replied, never losing her calm. She was actually kind of enjoying this. She got the distinct impression that the Avengers had expected something different from her. What that was, she didn’t know, but they were certainly very put off by her professional appearance. “I’m not a child, Mr Wilson. I’ve been running Stark Industries since I was twenty-one.” She paused and looked thoughtful. “Not unlike my father in that aspect.” She saw the way Barnes twitched and was curious about it. He’d never shown much in the way of remorse for his actions since the Wakandan’s had cleared him. “I’m twenty-nine now, Mr Wilson. While I understand that you’re used to thinking of grown women as children, I’ll thank you not to consider _me_ that way.”

That drew a truly delightful reaction. Wilson looked like she’d slapped him, Maximoff was pouting, Vision was fawning over her in a fashion that was truly disturbing, Barton was scowling and Barnes was eying her warily. It looked like he was the only smart one of the lot.

She picked up her tablet and briefcase and got to her feet. “It seems this meeting was a waste of _my_ time. If you wish to be considered for funding, make a submission to the Tony Stark Foundation. Good day.”

As much as she disliked the idea of putting her back to half the people in this room, she turned on her heel and walked out, her head held high. She pulled out her phone when she was out of earshot of the room and called her mother.

“Mom? It’s done. Yeah, I know I didn’t have to do this personally, but it really was a lot of fun to see the looks on their faces. We owe Aunt Nebula that box of cookies she wanted though.” She laughed. “I’m in meetings for the rest of the morning then I’m heading for R&D to play with the rest of the kids.” She laughed again. “Yes, Mom, I’ll be good, I promise. Only very small explosions. Bye, Mom. Love you.”

A noise behind her made her whip around, a gauntlet forming around her hand from the watch she wore. It was Barnes, holding his hands up and eying the gauntlet warily.

“Sergeant,” she said with a nod, not lowering her hand even one inch. “Can I help you?”

Barnes looked away and shuffled his feet. She was just about to say something sharp when he looked at her again. “I know I’m the last person who should be askin’ this of you but… I need help.”

Morgan arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

Barnes tapped his temple. “I think somethin’s wrong up here. Sh… The Wakandans tell me everything’s fine but it ain’t.” He paused and stared at the floor for a moment before raising his head again. “I think it’s got somethin’ to do with _her_.” He jerked his head back towards the meeting room. “I tried to get a meetin’ with that Sorcerer guy, but he didn’t reply. I didn’t know who else to ask.”

Morgan gave him a long look, but he seemed sincere and just a little desperate. She hesitated just a moment longer then gave a short nod. His phone pinged and she retracted the gauntlet.

“I’ve sent an address to your phone. Go there,” she said. “I suggest you go now and don’t tell anyone if you really think she’s involved.”

Barnes nodded and hurried away. Morgan watched him go and then headed for the entrance again.

“That was interesting,” FRIDAY whispered in her ear.

“Wasn’t it just,” she murmured in reply. “This game just got a whole lot more interesting.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a few turns on me I wasn't expecting but we find out a bit about what Wanda has been doing and it's (part of) the Iron Family to the rescue. Soon.

Morgan had always rather liked the New York Sanctum. She didn’t get much of a chance to visit these days, but she’d spent enough time in the Sanctum when she was a teenager to know some of its secrets. Her teenage years had been… somewhat fraught. There’d been a period of almost two years when she’d been almost entirely confined to either the Sanctum or, when portals could be organised, Kamar-Taj and the Hong Kong and London Sanctums due to threats against her from some unhinged group of whackos. The most annoying thing about the whole affair had been that the group that had targeted her had been doing so because of Lagos… which a) she hadn’t been involved in and b) her father hadn’t been involved in either. It had been the start of her irritation with the Avengers.

“Well?” she said with a raised eyebrow when her Uncle Stephen walked out of the room that Barnes was confined to for the moment.

Dr Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, had barely aged a day in all the years she’d known him. He was evasive when anyone brought up that particular point but to Morgan, he’d been a little more open. Not much but just the tiniest fraction. To her, he’d said that there was a reason and one day she’d find out what it was.

“His instincts were right,” Stephen said grimly. 

“She’s been manipulating him?”

Stephen shook his head. “No, something worse.”

Morgan grimaced. “You mean there’s something worse than mental manipulation?”

“She’s a leech.”

Morgan blinked then snorted. “Yeah, well, I knew that but what definition are you applying to that?”

“You’ve said before that she stopped aging,” Stephen said dryly, one eyebrow raised.

Morgan stared at him blankly for a moment. “You’re not serious,” she finally said.

“I’m afraid I am,” Stephen replied. “She’s using Barnes’ super serum enhancement to keep herself young, probably because Vision is unlikely to age in any way we understand.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“It gets worse.”

Morgan shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to know but… go on.”

“It looks like she started out just tapping into the serum’s anti-aging effects but only very lightly,” Stephen began. “But in recent years, she’s been taking more.”

Morgan frowned. “Do you know when that changed?”

“Several years ago,” Stephen replied. He frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe ten years or so.”

“Like, maybe _thirteen_ years?” she suggested.

Stephen nodded. “Perhaps. Why that number in particular?”

“Rogers died thirteen years ago,” Morgan replied. “What if she was leeching off him too and that’s why she was only lightly tapping into Barnes until that point?”

“That… would explain it,” Stephen replied, his expression becoming one of disapproval when Rogers’ name was mentioned.

Morgan had asked about _that_ a few times over the years, but Stephen would never explain. She suspected it had something to do with how Rogers had abruptly gotten old, but to be honest, she hadn’t cared enough about _that_ to really pursue the matter.

“The spell predates that by some time though,” Stephen continued. “I can’t tell how long.”

“I don’t suppose it really matters,” Morgan said with a shrug. “Can you remove it? And have you told him?”

“I have told him,” Stephen replied. “He was none too pleased. As for removing it… that might be difficult.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Aren’t you supposed to be the Sorcerer Supreme? I thought that made you more powerful than some two-bit HYDRA witch.”

“It’s complicated,” Stephen replied, his expression evasive.

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. “Then _un_ complicate it.”

Stephen sighed and gestured for her to walk with him. He led her through the Sanctum and into what Morgan had always called the ‘Viewing Room’. Today the three windows – or rather, portals – were set to peaceful scenes of a rainforest, green meadows and a gentle ocean somewhere. Stephen conjured up two chairs and gestured for Morgan to sit.

“You’ve been frustrated that I haven’t dealt with her.”

Morgan huffed. “I’m sorry but she hasn’t been aging and somehow brought Vision back from the dead. I’ve doubted for a very long time that either of those things could have been done without doing something... horrible.” She scowled at him. “At you’ve just let her get away with it for years now.”

“I haven’t been _letting her get away with it_ ,” Stephen said irritably. “I have been shoring up the foundations her shenanigans have been threatening to tear asunder so that the rest of the sorcerers can hold them steady while I deal with her. That way, half the multiverse won’t collapse in on itself while I do that. There would be no point neutralising her if we didn’t have a world to live on afterwards.”

Morgan gaped at him. “What the hell has she done?” she asked with a frown.

“Not content with just leeching off Barnes, she has been reaching through dimensional barriers and siphoning power and energy from her alternate dimensional selves,” Stephen said bluntly. “She has already burned through two and is well on the way to draining a third. The first two were driven mad by her actions before they died.”

Morgan stared at him. The words were entirely comprehensible and yet… “She’s doing _what_?”

“You heard me.” 

Stephen rolled his shoulders and for the first time, Morgan realised that he looked _tired_. _Beyond_ tired. Weary down to his bones. Like he’d taken on the mantle of Sisyphus and wasn’t enjoying it at all.

All of her annoyance drained out of her in an instant. “What’s that doing?”

“Destabilising the entire damn multiverse,” Stephen said grumpily. “At first, I thought she was doing it accidentally, so I approached her about training. But it quickly became clear that she knows damn well what’s she’s doing and has no intention of stopping.”

“Can’t you just cut her off? You _are_ the Sorcerer Supreme. I know you’re more powerful than her.”

“I wish it was that easy.” He sighed and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “And honestly, it would have been had I known what she was doing earlier. By the time I found out, it was too late for the easy way.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Does Vision know?”

The expression that appeared on Stephen’s face told her that her feelings about the synthezoid were shared by the sorcerer.

“I don’t know.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m not entirely certain that the Vision that is here is the Vision that… belongs here.”

Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “She _stole_ a Vision from another dimension?”

“Maybe.”

“Does he even want to be here? Is she keeping him prisoner? Is she mind-controlling him?”

“Unknown.”

“Well, shit,” Morgan said with a sigh. “So, what can we do?”

“We?” Stephen said archly.

Morgan snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, we. Clearly, you and the other sorcerers have only been able to manage a stop gap solution. Which, okay, is clearly working in some way because the multiverse hasn’t yet collapsed but she needs to be stopped.”

She rolled her eyes at the melancholy amusement that grew on Stephen’s face. She’d gotten used to that over the years. The expression only appeared when she was, according to Stephen, being her ‘most Tony-ish’. She only accepted it because she knew Stephen had an entirely different definition of that phrase than everybody else, due to him seeing 14 million different, yet mostly the same, versions of her father. Which she usually tried not to think about because it made her head hurt. But irrespective of all that, from him, it was a compliment, a comparison to her father at his most inventive and heroic.

“How official do you want this to be?” she asked, distracting him from his thoughts. “All the gang or just me, Pete and Harley?” She held up one hand. “And before you complain, trying to keep them out of this would be futile.”

Stephen snorted and ran his hand through his hair. While he hadn’t aged, the grey at his temples had spread a little, giving him a distinguished air when he actually put his mind to it.

“Besides,” Morgan continued. “Pete’s been looking for an excuse to let that spider-kid he’s been mentoring take the lead a bit more.”

Stephen relaxed a bit and smirked. “Is he still complaining about the young man?”

Morgan chuckled. “Yeah, even when Mom and Uncle Rhodey tease him about finally understanding what Dad went through with him.”

Stephen’s smile broadened for a moment. “No Riri?”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “She took the secondment to California to work with Hope and Carol for a year or two. Thank Thor for that too. She and Harley have been on and off so many times, they rival disco lights. Everyone figured that the separation would either make things permanently off or make them get their shit together.”

“And the verdict?”

“Apparently, absence is making their hearts grow fonder,” Morgan said very dryly. “Or at least means they have to talk about shit now instead of ignoring it and having it blow up in their faces.” She rolled her eyes again. “Ugh.”

Stephen chuckled in a strange way. “One day you will meet someone and then we shall all laugh at you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Morgan said with a wave of her hand. “Back to the matter at hand. You’ll get three of the Iron Family. You just need to tell us what we can do.”

“I’ll need to bring Wong into this,” Stephen replied. “He’ll have to take my place in the workings with the foundations.”

“I’ll get the boys,” Morgan said with a nod. “Meet up back here tonight? Say, 7pm? I’ll bring food.”

Stephen gave her a short nod. “Very well.”

Morgan gave him a quick hug because she always enjoyed the complicated expression he got when she did that and hurried out of the Sanctum to get things organised on her end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, did I just slip a tiny reference to Miles Morales in there? :D
> 
> Obviously, I'm mixing up timelines and universes and what not with this but, hey! Who cares? Let's have some fun with this.
> 
> I've tagged this as having another chapter but there might be 2 more, depending on how nicely my muses play along.


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